On getting frustrated

Does your life move in stages, too? Like, does it feel to you, too, that there is an "age" of something and then life moves on to something else?

I feel like my life has come to an end of the age of... whinging.

It may not feel like it from where you are, reading my blog, but I have - I promise! - cut back on the amount of frustration. I've... had enough of it. I've had enough of getting angry at our house, at time pressures, finances, career choices, health. I've kept watching frustration fill my bowl to a point where it's affected my life and the amount of enjoyment I am getting out of it, and I've sort of gone...

"F*ck it."

I've found that I just can't. Do. All of it.

I just can't. I can't be an awesome mother, and an awesome writer, and an awesome student, and an awesome friend, and an awesome DIYer - and then an awesomely happy person somewhere in between those all. There just isn't enough of me: there isn't enough time and energy to fit it all in.

I've sort of gone f*ck it, f*ck it, f*ck it to a whole bunch of things. I've had to.

Sometimes I still get frustrated, habitually almost, automatically resorting to a "This is bollocks!" response in my head when stuck against something I strongly disagree with. But then I notice it, and I keep on teaching myself to get better at it, and I tell myself that getting angry at it isn't helping it. If I've got enough energy and self-control at that moment, I stop; instead of feeling passionately f*cked off with something I just go, "Well, yeah, tough luck" to it - and then I leave it.

And then I go and live my life instead.

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